


so. you think you hear laurel?

by daidalos



Series: the beat my heart skips when i'm with you [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, F/F, F/M, M/M, Memes, Mixed Media, Modern Bucky Barnes, Multi, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is a little shit, millennial!Cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daidalos/pseuds/daidalos
Summary: “Man, are you ever planning on clueing Stark into the fact that you know exactly what’s up with this century?”A smirk curled around Steve’s lips as he glanced at Sam. He laughed when his friend groaned.“Not a chance in hell.”When Steve Rogers came out of the ice, the world was convinced they knew everything about him. The world was convinced that Steve would hate the future, and all of its strange technology. Of course, the world was wrong - not that Steve felt the need to let them know.Because what the world seemed to forget, was the fact that Steve Rogers is a little shit.





	so. you think you hear laurel?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [artwork](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/388620) by tyranttirade. 



> Here is my contribution to the Cap Reverse Big Bang! I was inspired by the stunning artwork done by [tyranttirade'](https://tyranttirade.tumblr.com/)! I can only hope I did your amazing piece justice! Beta'd by the lovely [akaihyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaihyou/pseuds/Akaihyou)!
> 
> The title is actually a riff of two memes ([Yanny/Laurel](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/yanny-or-laurel) and the '[So, you got detention](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/captain-america-so-you-got-detention)' meme!)  
>    
> 

It started with a picture.

Tony would argue that point, but everyone really knew it started with a picture, the first picture of Steve Rogers on his brand new Instagram. It was a fantastic picture, made even better by the fact that Steve wasn’t actually looking at the camera. He was standing off to the corner, peering over the vast expanse of the Grand Canyon, hands on his hips, emphasizing his enviable shoulder to waist proportions. The picture was made even better by one Sam Wilson, whose goofy expression took up the entire bottom half of the photograph. It was innocuous enough of a picture, but the fact that Steve Rogers, the world’s first superhero, now had an Instagram was enough to send the internet into a frenzy.

As Steve and Sam climbed into the small Volkswagon Bug the two of them had rented for the express purpose of taking this trip, Steve’s Nokia flip phone began blowing up with the obnoxious “Star Spangled Man with a Plan” ringtone. Rolling his eyes, Steve dug into his pocket and pulled out the phone.

“What do you want Tony?”

“Did you know that you actually _broke_ the Internet?”

Steve sighed.

“It’s impossible to actually break the Internet, Tony.”

“Well you did. I’m offended. I can’t believe that you broke the Internet and I wasn’t even there to help you! You brought along Wilson? I’ve been trying to break the Internet for years! One dumb picture of you at the Grand Canyon and suddenly you might as well be posing naked on a magazine - hey do you think that would work?”

“Tony, all you have to do is _google_ your name and people can see more of you than they would ever want to, so I don’t think that you posing naked would really do much to break the Internet.”

Next to him, Sam choked on the water he was currently gulping down and spluttered with laughter.

On the phone, from across state lines, Tony was also spluttering in indignation.

“Just you wait Rogers. I’ll break the Internet harder than you ever did.”

“I don’t think that’s the correct verb,” Steve interjected mildly.

“Look, just wrap up your little sad road trip with Wilson and come to Malibu. There are people I want to introduce you to - including a couple of other nonagenarians you might get along with - and I want to play with Wilson’s wings.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Tony hung up the phone without any sort of farewell. Steve sighed. He closed the flip phone and tossed it in the back of the car, reaching for the iPhone resting on the dashboard, as Sam started the car.

“Man, are you ever planning on clueing Stark into the fact that you know exactly what’s up with this century?”

A smirk curled around Steve’s lips as he glanced at Sam. He laughed when his friend groaned.

“Not a chance in hell.”

 

* * *

 

 **capattack:**  

 

> Oh my god you guys cap is on instagram!!  
>    
>  212 notes  
>  #captain america #steve rogers #my life is complete

 

**dailycaptainamerica:**

 

> [image: a selfie from above, with Sam Wilson squinting and making a duck face, at the edge of the Grand Canyon. Visible in the upper left corner of the photo is Steve Rogers, his back to the camera, his hands on his hips. The caption reads: ‘Welcome to the Grand Canyon (and the new century) Cap!’]  
>    
>  1,045 notes
> 
> #captain america, #steve rogers, #sam wilson, #instagram

 

**~★~ Captain America ~★~ @capfanaccount**

Okay, Cap has Instagram. All that’s next is for him to get a Twitter and wage war on the president.

 

**Leon @leonthelion**

Considering how long it took him to get on Instagram, I wouldn’t hold my breath

 

* * *

 

The first thing Steve had done, after his mandatory S.H.I.E.L.D ‘orientation into the 21st century’ - as Steve had taken to calling those first two weeks out of the ice - was shake his S.H.I.E.L.D. tail long enough to march straight into an Apple Store and purchase an iPhone. The window of opportunity was much smaller than Steve had anticipated - and he wondered if that was because of the technology S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed adamantly against introducing him to, or if spies really had gotten better over the years.

But Peggy Carter had taught Steve how to spot a tail from a mile away and that much hadn’t changed, even seventy years in the future.

Nevertheless, it had been enough time for Steve to be outfitted with a phone, fully equipped with texting, calling, Internet, and something the employee referred to as data. Steve would figure out what that meant later and become relieved that he had allowed the salesman to talk him into signing onto the unlimited plan. Steve had just pocketed the new cell phone - which everyone seemed to have some version of in the future, whether it was from Apple, or the store branded with the Stark logo - when two S.H.I.E.L.D. employees walked in. Steve adopted a confused, apologetic expression which had them convinced in seconds that the idea of a shopping mall had simply been too much for him to handle and he had wound up lost, in perhaps the most confusing store he could have found himself in.

Although Steve was glad the ruse worked, it remained infuriating.

The future was difficult. Steve would never claim otherwise. He missed the familiarity that came with the world he had left behind in the ice. He missed his comrade in arms, though he knew Morita was still alive, in a nursing home, out in San Francisco. Steve missed Peggy and the sharp crack of her voice and spirit, like a whip whistling through the air.

But he couldn’t go back.

Accepting that had been rather easy for Steve. There were still days he woke up, disoriented and confused, days when the ache for the world he had been born into felt like those descriptions of veterans who came home with phantom limbs, but they were becoming fewer and further in between. Steve had gained clarity, in large part thanks to the Internet, and in some ways, he suspected there might not have been much left for him in that world, even if he hadn’t gone into the ice.

His mother had died, years before Steve lied on his enlistment papers and finally joined the army. He had been placed in his parish’s orphanage, overcrowded and underfed, with dozens of boys his age, all burning if not with patriotism and desire to fight, then the incessant need to _get out_. Steve had left Brooklyn behind to go to war, but Brooklyn had only ever been a place. It hadn’t quite felt like home without his mother anyway. Steve hadn’t belonged to Brooklyn any more than he had belonged to America, but the moment he signed the liability forms General Phillips shoved under his face with a sneer, that came into question too.

It had become apparent to Steve, after googling himself on several occasions, that had he come home from the war without plunging the Valkyrie into the ocean, the U.S. Army might never have let him go. Steve had been furious when he discovered his name and legacy as Captain America had been used as a mouthpiece for views he had never once voiced or even agreed with, but he had no control over that. Steve didn’t want to think about what could have happened if he had been a living puppet, instead of a dead one.

Steve had realized quite quickly, without Fury’s no-nonsense attitude, that the world he had woken up in was the one he would be living in from now on. And so he had adapted.

No one else had realized.

Steve hadn’t intentionally been keeping it from people. He had tried catching up, though it was difficult, considering that he was ninety percent certain S.H.I.E.L.D. was monitoring his Internet and communications via the chunky flip phone they had given him. He researched in small spurts, using the iPhone no one knew he had, and he learned about the brave new world, and came to one conclusion.

It was amazing.

The diseases that had riddled Steve’s childhood were manageable. The illnesses his mother had feared would take him every winter could be sorted with _preventative_ medication. The tuberculosis that had killed Sarah Rogers was a problem of the past.

Flying cars weren’t a thing of the future - Steve wished he could rub Howard’s face in it, he never believed the arrogant bastard - but apparently flying ships _were_. People across the world could communicate with one another in seconds and Steve had choked up more than once, talking on the phone with Morita and later Peggy on her good days. Steve had tried catching himself up on pop culture and began dropping references to his fellow Avengers, during the clean-up process following the Battle of New York.

It took about the same amount of time for Steve to figure out what the world - what his _teammates_ \- thought of him as it did for him to adjust to the 21st century. That is to say, about two weeks.

He liked the Avengers, he did. He thought Bruce was right about them being a ticking time bomb, even without a magical Asgardian spear, but he still liked them. Clint, when he wasn’t being brainwashed, was hilarious and probably going to get himself killed one day from tripping over a broom or something. As long as Steve managed to record it, he didn’t care. Bruce was sometimes quiet, but most of the time he was equal parts salty and savage - two terms that Steve had embraced wholeheartedly, since discovering Urban Dictionary. Thor was amusing and Steve really wanted to try swinging his hammer, but watching Tony practically topple out of the sky with it when he tried to catch it once had been more than enough for Steve. He had gone silent on the comms for a full minute and the team thought he had been hit by one of the magical plants the supervillain of the week was using to try and invade New York, but really Steve had doubled over behind a building, laughing so hard his stomach hurt like a punch to the gut. And Tony was...well, half the time Steve wanted to punch him in the face, if only because he never got to punch Howard, and that was perhaps his second biggest regret about waking up seventy years in the future, only after missing his date with Peggy. But Tumblr and his own observations gave him the distinct impression that if Tony were granted five minutes with his father, he might also want to punch the man in the face, so Steve felt an odd kinship with Tony. He suspected that Tony also wanted to punch _him_ in the face, so there was that. Natasha was a firecracker of a woman, and if Steve wasn’t so put off by S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe he could have felt a spark, but he was lucky to counter her as one of his friends.

The Avengers were good people, but they had already formed their opinions about Steve. He knew people’s perception of him, that he was just muscle and a relic of the past. Steve knew the Avengers had slightly higher opinions of him - they had seen the files S.H.I.E.L.D. had on him and he knew that Tony had hacked into the database to see what the organization _didn’t_ say about the man out of time. But even they made assumptions and, frankly, Steve was sick of it.

One of the first things he learned about in the new century was _trolling_.

The world was convinced that, because his enlistment papers claimed he had been born in 1918, he must be like every other technologically challenged member of the so-called ‘Greatest Generation’, stuck in his ways and resistant to any sort of change. In fact, judging from Steve’s late night Internet trawls, the only remnants of the stubbornness he was made of, seemed to be his so-called refusal to change his ways.

And so he had leaned into it.

Steve had discovered that it helped remove some of the frustration at being written off as one thing or another, when he was having his own private joke on the world. Still, sometimes it was more exhausting than it was amusing. At least, until Steve met Sam Wilson.

He had been running and then flirting. The 21st century was full of attractive men and women, and Steve was certainly a fan of the more modern styles of dress. He had happily adapted into his own wardrobe, full of shirts that were certainly too tight to have been considered modest in the day and age Steve had been born in. Sam hadn’t responded to the flirting (Later, Sam would say, “Man, if that was your idea of flirting, maybe we should just introduce you to Tinder, because your looks are the only thing that’s going to get you laid.”), but he had recommended a soundtrack that Steve hadn’t heard of before. In the process of pulling out his phone to add to his notes, Sam’s eagle eyes had caught sight of a certain notification that flashed across the screen.

“Are you telling me that Captain America is on Tumblr?”

 

* * *

 

**redwhiteandtrue**

 

> frankly i don’t know why captain america hasn’t just kicked tony stark out of the avengers yet. or natasha romanoff for that matter. i was there in seattle, and romanoff literally IGNORED cap’s direct order  
>    
>  13 notes
> 
> #avengers #anti iron man #anti black widow

 

 **officialsteverogers** reblogged **redwhiteandtrue**

 

> yeah it’s not like captain america completely ignored his orders to mount a one-man rescue mission in italy or anything  
>    
>  32,102
> 
> #steve rogers #get your facts straight #cap won’t stand for this #i won’t stand for this

 

 **redwhiteandtrue** reblogged **officialsteverogers**

 

> You’re a disgrace to your url, i can’t wait until someone tells cap about tumblr and you have to give it up  
>    
>  32,103 notes  
>    
>  #steve rogers deserves better than this

 

* * *

 

Near Bucky’s head, the irritating sound of his alarm began blaring and he groaned, reaching across the wide bed with his hand, which he flopped around the nightstand until finally the noise stopped. For a brief moment, Bucky actually thought he might be able to fall back asleep, but the low rumble from the foot of his bed quickly dispelled that notion. Glancing at Lul, Bucky sighed and threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light. “Lul, it’s too early for this,” he whined, “It’s too early to be _alive_.” His voice was syrupy-thick with sleep, but Lul didn’t seem to be having any of it.

  
It was, in fact, far too early to be awake. Squinting at the blurry numbers displayed on the alarm clock, Bucky racked his brains, trying to figure out why the hell he had set an alarm for four in the morning, unless it was by accident. And then it clicked into place.  
  
“Shit!” Bucky yelled, scrambling out of bed, starling Lul in the process. “Shit, shit, shit!” Most days, as CEO of his own business, Bucky was able to make a schedule as he pleased and certainly didn’t have to get out of bed before noon if he didn’t want to - though such occasions were quite rare. But then there were other days, like today, when Bucky had to hold a conference call with his principle investor, who just so happened to live in a timezone that put him eleven hours ahead of Bucky.  
  
Fumbling for the button on his desk lamp - a new design from Stark Industries, after Bucky had given a presentation at their most recent expo about accessibility and the need to think of more than just the able-bodied consumers - Bucky powered up his laptop, cursing underneath his breath and looking around his floor, trying to locate a shirt to pull on. Before he could find one, his icon began bouncing, and Bucky cursed one final time underneath his breath. Glancing heavenwards in a silent prayer for patience, Bucky clicked it, accepting the call from his investor.  
  
“Mr. Barnes,” the man began gravely. “Would you consider this proper attire for a meeting with the King of Wakanda?”  
  
Bucky rolled his eyes and promptly threw the king of Wakanda the finger. From somewhere off-screen, Bucky heard the familiar sound of Shuri’s laugh and a smile broke out across T’Challa’s face as well.  
  
“I am sorry about the time difference,” T’Challa said humbly, but Bucky made a sound, waving his metal hand in dismissal.  
  
“Look, you don’t apologize about the time difference, and I won’t apologize about not wearing a shirt,” Bucky said, a shit-eating grin on his face and T’Challa laughed warmly at his response.

It was a strange turn of events that had lead to the tender friendship that had blossomed between T’Challa and Bucky. It had been after Bucky’s return, after he had made his way to the West Coast for something different than the blinding familiarity and jarring differences of home. He had been living on the streets, wandering with a gaze half-haunted, jumping at every backfired car. Bucky’s family had begged him to come home, offering their love and support, but Bucky hadn’t been capable of accepting it, not when his mind was still a minefield he hadn’t yet learned to navigate.

Bucky wore a tattered hat, covering stringy, dirty hair and he was covered in layers upon layers of clothing that did nothing to disguise the fact that he was missing an arm. One glance at him, and anyone could come to the conclusion that Bucky Barnes was the perfect person to frame for a bombing.

The king and crown prince of Wakanda had been visiting a university, invited to speak, when a man named Strucker set off a bomb that killed King T’Chaka. Bucky, who had been not far from the campus, was the prime suspect, and had been apprehended in the middle of the street, face forced to the ground as the police struggled to figure out how to handcuff a man with only one hand to speak of. T’Challa had stood above, towering, his face stony, and something about the image had made something within Bucky snap.

He only had a vague recollection of what he said, though he knew he could find the rant on YouTube. Bucky had never bothered to watch it - he had heard the description recounted to him in Stark’s gleeful tone and again in T’Challa’s thoughtful voice that implied he had given a great deal of thought to the interaction.

_“Isn’t it fucking rich,” Bucky spat, his glare furious and righteous, even from the unforgiving pavement, practically frothing at the mouth, “That this country doesn’t give a damn about me or anyone like me? You’re all perfectly happy to ignore me every day, because facing me would mean you would have to face something unpleasant about this place, about yourselves. But the second something goes wrong, something you can’t explain, everyone suddenly remembers the homeless guy that wanders around muttering to himself!”_

Bucky didn’t remember much more than that, but he knew there had been people filming, their phone cameras pointed at him, turning him into a spectacle, a zoo animal again. It had gone viral, become a talking point on the treatment of veterans in the country, but all of that had come after. Bucky hadn’t cared, he hadn’t cared about anything except the tiniest flicker of remorse he thought he saw in the eyes of the new king of Wakanda.

He had been cleared hours after his arrest, and it was T’Challa who told him, seated across the small table, his back to the double-sided mirror that Bucky had been studiously ignoring.

_“We have found the man responsible for my father’s death,” T’Challa said, his voice improbably steady. “A man by the name of Strucker, whose grievance lead him to commit this act of violence, in the name of vengeance.”_

_Bucky had remained stoic, his eyes never leaving T’Challa’s as he spoke._

_“I was - I am grieving. I too wanted revenge and I wanted it immediately.” T’Challa gave a heavy pause. “I still want revenge. But I allowed this desire to overwhelm reason. I apologize for prolonging your suffering, Sergeant Barnes.”_

_Bucky had flinched violently at that._

_“’S fine,” he had muttered, right fingers picking at a loose string along the fraying hem of his flannel shirt, to hide the tremble. “Not a big deal, stuff like this -”_

_“Happens often?”_

_T’Challa’s voice had been an odd mixture of indignant, expectant and even remorseful. Bucky had simply cast his eyes downward and listened to the king take a breath._

_“You were right, Sergeant Barnes. I cannot speak for your country and how they have failed you, but...you and my father, you were both victims.” It was Bucky who then inhaled sharply. “If I can help one of you find peace...”_

“Bucky?”

In the present, Bucky blinked away the shrapnel of the past and forced himself to focus on T’Challa’s face, staring at him through the computer screen with concern.

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

T’Challa held his gaze for a beat and Bucky knew he was searching, without ever letting his eyes drift, but Bucky remained composed. He had long ago learned not to apologize for the meandering path his mind would take through the battlefield that was still present in the form of his fragmented past. Whatever it was, it was it was inextricably his own. A philosophy that had been taught to him by the young woman who suddenly appeared on the screen, above T’Challa’s shoulder.

“How’s the arm doing today?” Shuri asked eagerly and Bucky’s smile clarified into something terribly fond. He had known the princess of Wakanda long enough to recognize that she was asking after Bucky, as much as she was the technology she had developed for him.

“Well it’s earlier than the army ever made me get up,” Bucky joked, “So I’ll let you know at a reasonable time of day.” Shuri made a face, and T’Challa sighed in annoyance, batting her away, until Shuri muttered something about making upgrades in her lab, and disappeared from view.

Bucky chuckled and reached for his briefcase.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

**Spotted! Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, getting coffee in…**

_Are those wedding bells you hear from Avengers Tower? While the boys have been away, Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff has been holding down the fort at home. After an intense battle with A.I.M. Natasha steps out, fresh faced and bright eyed with none other than Clint Barton!_

 

**Danielle  
@iamdaniiam**

Ummm did @DailyBugle seriously just imply that @BlackWidow was ‘housekeeping’?

 

**Peggy Carter ** **✓****  
@directorcarter **

I thought I was having a bad day when I read the headline, but then I realized it was just @DailyBugle producing more drivel. #BlackWidow

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Freebird, showing their faces at last.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony but, next to him, Sam chuckled. He still seemed to find the man amusing, but Steve remained convinced it was just a form of Stockholm Syndrome since Tony had outfitted Sam with brand new wings for Avengers work.

“You knew we were on a road trip, Tony,” Steve said with a sigh, but Tony threw a dismissive hand at that, beckoning Steve and Sam further into his home.

“I don’t care about the details of your boring little coming of age summer hit,” Tony said, in a way that directly implied he was still burning with jealousy that he hadn’t been invited along. “Besides, I was busy at work. In case you hadn’t realized, some of us actually had superheroing to do.”

“By some of us, he means Natasha,” Steve informed Sam from the corner of his mouth and Tony glared at the two of them. Footage of Natasha singlehandedly defending the Tower in New York City had been splashed across the news, though to Steve’s neverending irritation, media outlets seemed more interested in the plethora of heart-eyed emojis Clint had left in a comment on her Instagram post about the very event.

“You know, being a superhero doesn’t pay for itself,” Tony began and Steve sighed heavily. He could already tell that Tony was about to go on another one of his ‘I pay for this shit’ rants and frankly, he was tired of them. Steve would happily hand Tony his credit card, considering the amount of back pay he had received from the U.S. government, but he knew the billionaire would take it as a personal affront. Not to mention, Steve would then have to explain to Tony that he had a credit card, when he was still getting a kick out of pulling a face every time he saw the result of inflation.

It had been jarring, at first, seeing the way prices went up and how much money was needed to get anything in this century. But Steve had figured it out pretty quickly. In the interim time between the alien attack and joining S.H.I.E.L.D. officially, Steve had taken a few night courses at a community college, while he was helping with the clean-up in New York City. The economics class in particular, had helped Steve ground himself in the present monetary situation.

He’d argue he had a better grasp on the concept of money than Tony, a man who had never had to worry about it a day in his life.

“So we’re going to have a fundraiser!” Steve tuned back into what Tony was going on about and blanched. He was familiar with this particular circus routine and he wanted no part in it. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice. “That last battle in Seattle did some significant damage and the techie people up there are not happy about it.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Sam.

“Aren’t you a techie person?” Sam asked with an arched brow and Tony began spluttering, finally reaching the kitchen in the enormous house and instantly reaching for a couple of glasses.

“Wilson, I’m offended. Do you see this face? This is a face that is offended.”

“It’s a face that’s missing a few bruises,” Steve muttered underneath his breath and Sam shot him a long-suffering glare.

“I’m not a _techie_. I’m an engineer. There’s a difference. Astronomical difference.”

“Tony, what’s the point of all of this?”

Tony gave Steve a baleful look and sighed.

“Look, I’ve got a lot of friends in Silicon Valley. They’re always looking to rub it in Microsoft’s faces and quite a few of them would love nothing more than to get their hands on some of my tech. Not that they will, but if I hold a charity auction exclusively for their crowd, they’re going to come running. And there’s some good people there. Not all of them are in weapons development like Hammer, T’Challa will probably come out to support his company.”

Steve frowned, trying to figure out what Tony was going on about, but Sam seemed to get it, nodding along with a pleased expression.

“Yeah, that would probably work,” he said in agreement and glanced at Steve. “Bunch of rich people coming out to bid and be smug about their location? You’ll probably have all the money you need in one night.”

“What would you be auctioning off?” Steve asked in curiosity, but began to regret it the moment Tony turned to him, a wolfish grin spread across his face.

“I’m glad you asked, grandpa.”

 

* * *

 

To: Justin Hammer +[29 more](mailto:ceo@starkindustries.com)

From: [ ceo@starkindustries.com ](mailto:ceo@starkindustries.com)

Subject: Avengers Awareness Auction

 

Good morning,

On behalf of Stark Industries and the Avengers, I would like to extend an invitation to attend the Avengers Awareness Auction, to be held on March 23. This evening will be dedicated to raising money for the repairs and reconstruction of Seattle, Washington, after the most recent damage done after the wayward experiments of a deranged individual.

During the course of this evening, a silent auction will take place, in which donors may choose to bid on various objects, such as a Klimpt painting, a signed first edition of _The Book of Wealth_ , and more.

Also up for auction will be each of the Avengers, for a single day. Specific details and guidelines for these days are outlined in the attached document. Bidding for the Avengers will begin at $1,000,000.

If you plan on attending the Avengers Awareness Auction, please respond with your RSVP.

Sincerely,

**Virginia Potts**

**CEO, Stark Industries**

 

* * *

 

With the hood of his navy blue lightweight jacket pulled over his ball cap and sunglasses, Steve made his way inside the Starbucks that Sam had given him directions to and made his way to the counter. He placed his order, received his cup with 'Stefan' scribbled across it, and made his way over to the corner where Sam was already seated.

“Man, you’re not even trying at this point,” Sam snorted and indicated the jacket (clearly designed with the Captain America stealth suit in mind) which Steve had picked up in a Wal-Mart in Tennessee. Steve smirked, and took a large sip of his coffee.

“I’ve always said it’s my favorite suit,” He joked. It was true. Steve didn’t often get asked questions during Avengers press conferences and, when they did, the questions tended to be about his adjustment to the future, or questions that forced him to dwell on the past. Usually Steve pulled out his ‘All-American boy’ routine, blushed real nice for the cameras, and said something that he and Sam would crack up about the following evening. Lately, Steve had taken to talking about his stealth suit all the time and apparently merchandisers had been listening.

Sam rolled his eyes, and eyed Steve’s drink with suspicion. “What the hell kind of drink is that?” Sam asked, and Steve’s smirk grew.

“Venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato with an extra shot and no whip.”

His friend fixed him with a blank stare. “That’s not a name; that’s a handful of word magnets thrown onto a refrigerator. Steve, why are you even drinking that?”

Steve shrugged. “I like it, it’s sweet.” During the war - hell, during his life - Steve had only consumed black coffee. It was fine, but he had never particularly cared for it. Now, there were all sorts of syrups and sugars that could temper the bitterness of the coffee, and Steve loved them. Sam made a face, but changed the subject.

“So what do you think of Stark’s idea for this charity auction?”

Mouth twisting wryly, Steve let out a sigh. “I know it’s for a good cause and I’m happy to help in whatever way, I just hate the dancing monkey routine.” Sam made a sympathetic noise of assent and Steve continued. “I mean, why can’t we just go up to Seattle and help out with the repairs ourselves? Stark has more than enough money - hell, I have enough money from backpay.” Steve didn’t know if that was strictly true, but it seemed like a better option than Tony’s proposed fundraiser.

Sam seemed to think differently.

“Honestly? I feel like it’s a good idea.” Steve’s thoughts must have shown on his face because Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair, not quite tipping it onto just two legs, but almost. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but money is what’s going to get things done around here.” Steve made another face and Sam let out the long-suffering sigh of a man who had sat through many of Steve’s socialist rants - and those had all been about the economy Steve left behind in the 1940s. “There are some things the Avengers just can’t do. Sometimes you can’t be the one to fix the world Steve,” Sam lectured.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. Whenever he heard an order like that, it was hard for Steve not to think, _“Watch me.”_

Recognizing the look, Sam threw his hands up and shook his head, but didn’t press the matter further. He knew a hopeless cause when he saw one and Steve Rogers had been a hopeless case since the moment he’d been born. His mother had always told him it was what made him so full of hope in the first place.

“Besides, who knows. You might get a cute date out of it.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’re as bad as Natasha,” he complained.

Sam sputtered in protest. “Excuse me? Who the hell helped you set up a Tinder?”

“I figured out Grindr on my own just fine, so I think I could have handled Tinder.”

Sam groaned loudly and Steve smirked. It was a never-ending source of amusement to him, that Sam had been completely unaware that Steve had been flirting with him the first time the two of them had met. Sam had first claimed Steve was bad at flirting (he might have been _bad_ at it - though Steve still disputed that - but he certainly hadn’t been subtle) and then confessed to Steve that he had been too caught off guard by the legacy of Captain America to question the heteronormative bullshit everyone had been fed about Steve for years. However, Sam had quickly seen through the  facade the twenty-first century seemed desperate to cling onto, and that was why he was one of Steve’s closest friends.

 _Not_ because he had helped Steve with Tinder.

“Honestly, you were more of a hindrance than anything.” Sam squawked indignantly for a moment, before his expression became more serious and he looked at Steve with his counselor eyes.

“Now I’m not trying to pull a Natasha, but, Steve, have you ever thought about actually dating anyone? Not just anonymously hooking up with people you meet online?” There was no judgment in Sam’s tone, but Steve could detect a hint of concern and he had a suspicion about Sam’s line of questioning.

“I’m going to guess you’re referring to Peggy, in a roundabout way?” Steve asked wryly, and Sam shrugged, though he did look slightly abashed.

Steve sighed.

“I loved Peggy,” he said seriously. “I did. Maybe I was too young and maybe I only ever got the one kiss but god, I loved that woman. If I hadn’t gone down in the plane, I hope she would have given me a chance.” Sam’s expression looked almost sad, but Steve’s mouth split into a grin. “I still love her and there are days when I get caught up in the what-ifs. But the thing about Peggy is that I wasn’t looking for her. She wasn’t looking for me. Neither of us were looking, but we still found each other anyways. I’ve still got a lot of life left to live and I figure, if I fall for someone again, like I did with Peggy, it’s not going to be because I’m looking for them.”

Sam nodded, taking in Steve’s words thoughtfully and reached for his chai tea latte to take a sip.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you’re going to fall in love in the places you’ve been looking anyways.”

“Oh, fuck _you_ , Wilson.”

 

* * *

 

**Currently trending:**

#StarkSavesSeattle

Tony Stark

White Wolf Inc.

Nakia

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[ **Captain America and the Falcon Seen Getting Coffee …  
** ](http://k)JustJared.com - 6 hours ago

The superhero BFFs were spotted in Malibu today, getting coffee at a local Starbucks. The two have been on a road trip for the past two weeks, but have arrived in California to support Stark’s charity auction to benefit Seattle after ...

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, if you are not ready in five minutes, I will leave without you!” T’Challa’s voice echoed threateningly down the stairs.

Though he knew the King of Wakanda was trying to be intimidating, Bucky couldn’t help but perk up at the prospect. It seemed to him like T’Challa was offering him an out. However, before Bucky could say as much, T’Challa descended the staircase.

“And if you do not come tonight,” T’Challa said, his tone grave, regal eyebrow arched, “I will leave you to Shuri.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

Had he not known T’Challa, he would have assumed the shadows were playing tricks on his eyes. Since he _did_ know the king quite well, Bucky was well aware that the man was smirking at him.

“Try me,” T’Challa replied in a singsong voice, and Bucky grumbled.

Tonight was the big charity event that Stark was putting on, to raise money for the damage and the Avengers did in Seattle a few weeks ago, when the latest supervillain had struck. Stark’s fundraiser had been all anyone could talk about in the Valley, for two main reasons. First of all, everyone and their techie brother seemed to want to stick it to Microsoft.

And then, of course, there was also the offer of purchasing the Avengers for a day.

Personally, Bucky was a little skeeved out by the whole thing. He had read the detailed guidelines that Pepper Potts had meticulously crafted, but these sort of auctions gave him a feeling of discomfort. Perhaps he might have felt differently if he actually wanted to spend money on any of the Avengers, but, as it so happened, he didn’t.

He got quite enough of Tony Stark already and, while Bucky liked the man in small doses, an entire day with him would wind up in at least one death. Banner seemed like an interesting man, and maybe Bucky would enjoy picking his brain for some advice on his latest model of prosthetics, but putting a veteran with PTSD and a man who could shift into a giant rage monster together for a day seemed like a bad idea. The Black Widow was an incredible woman, and Bucky wouldn’t say no to a day with her, but she also looked like she could eat him alive. Much as the idea excited him, he did have his own Tumblr and had seen the copious gifs of every glance ever exchanged between Romanoff and Barton. Bucky didn’t want to end up with an arrow in his back. For that same reason, he wouldn’t be bidding on Hawkeye. The part of Bucky that had always loved space and wanted to be an astronaut itched to place a bid on Thor, but he knew he would be outbid within seconds. Bucky doubted it would be worth it to try to compete with the rabid fans placing their money on the god of thunder. Bucky had been included in a group chat, in which he had remained silent thus far, and already there had been death threats over the Asgardian prince.

That just left Captain America. Bucky was intrigued, like just about everyone else in America, but he had been incapacitated during the whole discovery and thawing out. By the time Bucky had begun to piece himself back together - thanks in large part to T’Challa - the initial hype and interest in Steve Rogers seemed to have died down. Given Bucky’s newfound distaste for the army, he wasn’t sure how he and Captain Rogers would get along. Besides, in the few press interviews Bucky had seen, the man seemed rather bland, though when compared to Tony Stark and Thor, he supposed anyone would seem a bit boring.

(And then of course, there was the fact that for most of his childhood, Bucky’s room had been plastered with posters of the man, comics proudly displayed on his desk, along with action figurines. As a teenager, the superhero had been partially responsible for Bucky’s sexual awakening, and that would just make everything awkward. He had always been told never to meet his heroes and Bucky planned on taking that advice.)

“Can’t I just hand you my card to make a donation?” Bucky asked. Shuri would say he whined, but Shuri was a liar and had posted an unflattering video of Bucky toppling over ungracefully (after being fitted with one of the new experimental arms that Shuri had weighed down purposefully), so he currently wasn’t speaking to the princess of Wakanda.

“You certainly cannot,” T’Challa said in a voice that was far too cheerful for making Bucky do something he absolutely did not want to do. His expression became serious and Bucky looked up from the metal frame he had been working on. “Bucky, you are the CEO of this company. You are a good man, doing good work. But you need to be visible too. Events like this are not necessarily enjoyable, but they are sometimes necessary.”

Bucky sighed. He knew T’Challa was right, and that was what made it most frustrating. He had only been to a couple of fundraisers like this before and he hated every one of them. But it was an evil that Bucky would have to live with. He was the CEO of a kickstarter company, after all. It may have been backed by Wakanda’s considerable resources and influence, but Bucky still had to do some schmoozing himself.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky said with a heavy sigh, laying down his tools and standing up. “Show me the monkey suit that Shuri designed.”

 

* * *

 

**dailyclintasha:**

 

> [Image: Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton arrive at Tony Stark’s renovated Malibu home. Natasha is in a tailored Tom Ford pantsuit with Louboutins, a gold bracelet, and a small gold arrow necklace. Clint is also wearing Tom Ford, in purple.]
> 
> 2,128 notes
> 
> #natasha romanoff #clint barton #stark’s save seattle charity auction #our edits #2k

 

 **peter quill ✓  
** **@starlordseattle**

 **@iamironman**  isn’t the problem that you guys “saved” seattle in the first place?

 

 **peter quill ✓  
** **@starlordseattle**

seattle can take care of its own, we don’t need a bunch of superheroes in tights. the thing about your plan is that it sucks.

 

 **Captain Steve Rogers ✓  
** **@steverogersreal**

 **@starlordseattle** Well it’s not like your football players in tights are helping you out #SuperBowlXLIX

 

 **rogerthatcaptain:**  

 

> did steve rogers??? just get twitter??? did steve rogers??? use his twitter to fight with peter quill??? about the superbowl??? more importantly
> 
> DOES THIS MEAN STEVE ROGERS IS A PATRIOTS FAN
> 
> 5321 notes
> 
> #steve rogers #peter quill #I NEED TO KNOW

 

* * *

 

"Are you hiding, Rogers?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Romanoff," Steve muttered and took another swig of his glass. There was the smallest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of Natasha's lips as she surveyed him, and Steve scowled in response. He hated these sort of events. Steve never liked dressing up in the monkey suit and performing for the various donors and millionaires that they needed to entertain, far more often than one would assume of a superhero. Natasha didn't like them anymore than he did - hell, none of the Avengers, save for Tony, really liked these events - but Steve was undeniably worse at hiding it.  
  
What he was good at was hiding.  
  
Natasha seemed to have his number,, though, and she showed no signs of leaving. Steve sighed and tilted back his glass, taking another sip and making a shooing motion with his hand, hoping that he could maybe irritate her into leaving. But he had no such luck.  
  
"I'll never understand how you manage to go unnoticed in crowds like this." Natasha let her gaze travel down Steve's form suggestively, but he knew she was talking about more than his imposing stature or how he looked in a three piece suit. He simply arched an eyebrow, refusing to respond. It wasn't even that he didn't _want_ to tell Natasha, simply he didn't know how to explain. It was difficult to put into words that for the majority of his life, Steve had simply been overlooked and unnoticed - he hadn't needed to hide, because no one saw him anyways. He could count on one hand how many people had truly seen him, before Project Rebirth. Steve still remembered the feeling, still remembered how to fall back into the shadows, how to slip by unnoticed. It was a useful skill, and he allowed people - even his teammates, his friends - to underestimate him. Sometimes it was for his own amusement, as it often was with Tony. Sometimes, like tonight, it was for his own protection.  
  
"You should get out there," Natasha was saying. "Go and mingle. This is for charity, and some of the donors here aren't even that bad." Now the expression on Steve's face really was one of shock. Of all people, Natasha was the last one he expected to vouch for the millionaire tech developers. "Besides, if you don't go out on your own terms, you know Tony is going to find you and drag you to the center of attention."  
  
Steve grimaced. It was true, and that knowledge, more than any of Natasha's gentle - and not so gentle - pushing, was what made Steve grab another flute of champagne and peel himself off the wall, stepping into the well lit room full of geniuses who had too much money and all wanted a piece of the Avengers.

After about five minutes, Steve felt an itch underneath his skin, the desire to worm his way out of the small circle of people gathered around him. It was clear from the expressions and the tone of conversation that they had next to no interest in him. Steve knew his reputation as the 'boring Avenger', and he was more than okay with it. Unfortunately, it didn't deter nearly as many people as he would have expected. This particular group of people seemed very interested in how Steve was adjusting to life in the 21st century, as well as the sort of tech he carried. He managed to stammer out something about his Nokia phone - the one he kept for Avenger purposes only, to continue the charade - before pretending to spot Bruce. Steve got out a few excuses, before backing away. Thankfully, the idea of conversing with the Hulk was enough to send the majority of the group scattering. Steve felt marginally bad for using Bruce like that, but he knew the doctor hated these gatherings as much as he did and probably wouldn't mind it.

A chuckle from behind made Steve turn around rapidly, coming face to face with the King and Princess of Wakanda.

"Your Highnesses," Steve managed to say, grateful that he recognized their faces from the recent press court circuit the two were doing, in honor of their research facility in Oakland. Tony had mentioned it a few times and Steve actually paid attention. He began to bow, uncertain what the appropriate gesture was in situations like this, but King T'Challa chuckled again and raised his hand to head off the motion.

"Please, it's just T'Challa. It's an honor to meet you, Captain." He held out his hand to shake, and Steve noted the strength in his grip.

"In that case, it's just Steve. Princess." Turning to greet Shuri, Steve kissed the back of her hand, and the princess giggled.

"Oh I like this one, brother," she said, clearly pleased. "Why can't we keep this white boy instead?" Steve wasn't quite sure what she meant by it, but he smiled at the siblings and the exasperated expression T'Challa directed her way. The royal Wakandans were the Internet's favorite siblings - more popular even than the group of blonde Australian actors - and real life was even better than the gifs that kept cropping up on Steve's dashboard.

"How are you liking this event?" Steve wasn't able to control his facial expression quickly enough, and both T'Challa and Shuri let out hearty laughs. "Oh, we have a friend you'd get along splendidly with. These things take time to adjust to," T'Challa explained.

Steve grimaced slightly. "No offense meant, your Highness - T'Challa - but I'm not sure I'll ever get used to them." Steve was just a boy from Brooklyn. He knew the words had become rather hackneyed - he had even seen them printed on graphic tees, over the image of his face - but it didn't change the fact that at events like these, Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place. No matter how long it had been since Steve had become someone the world deemed worthy of knowing, he didn't see himself ever becoming comfortable in this particular setting.

"Fair enough," T'Challa inclined his head, and Shuri let out a sigh by his side, indicating her boredom with the conversation and its current direction. Before Steve could ask her a question - he really was curious where she purchased her sneakers, since he struggled to find his own pair that were both on trend and fashionable - he heard Tony's voice booming over the speakers.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, before we get to the auction part of the evening, we've got a couple more songs to play. This one's for you, Father Time." An old swing tune, one that Steve recognized, began playing, and he rolled his eyes, though smiled all the same. Shuri let out a small noise of delight, and Steve regarded her curiously.

"Do you dance?" he asked, and she smirked, exchanging a glance with her brother before looking back at Steve.

"Are you asking me?" she challenged, and Steve didn't even hesitate, a wide grin on his face.

"I guess I am."

 

* * *

 

 **dailycaptainamerica:**  

 

> [Image: A sepia toned snapshot of Steve Rogers and Princess Shuri of Wakanda, dancing at the Avengers Awareness Auction. They are in the center of the dance floor, and Rogers is dipping the princess. The caption reads: ‘Save the last dance’. Source: Stark Industries official Instagram.]  
>    
>  4,291 notes  
>    
>  #captain america, #steve rogers #princess shuri, #avengers awareness auction, #stark industries, #instagram

 

**Currently trending**

Steve Rogers

#AvengersAwarenessAuction

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 **hovvlingconnandos:**  

 

> STEVE! ROGERS! HASN’T! DANCED! WITH! ANYONE! SINCE! DIRECTOR! PEGGY! CARTER!
> 
> #steve rogers #princess shuri #aaa

 

 **cartersboys** reblogged **hovvlingconnandos**

 

> i don’t think steve ever danced with peggy carter either. listen to the transcript from the valkyrie. it sounded like they were making plans to go dancing for the first time.
> 
> ‘save the last dance’ - steve rogers gave that saved dance to princess shuri  
>    
>  985 notes
> 
> #steve rogers #princess shuri #avengers awareness auction #i’m not crying #you’re crying #idk what this means

 

* * *

 

Admittedly, the party wasn't as bad as Bucky had been expecting. Granted, the only reason that was the case was because Stark managed to spring for some decent catering, but since Bucky had spent the majority of the evening by the refreshments table and planned to remain there until T'Challa freed him from his obligations for the night, he was willing to concede that the whole shindig wasn't terrible. In the privacy of his own mind, he would even admit that the Avengers looked damn fine. Not that Bucky had really expected anything else. He was pretty sure that being drop dead gorgeous was one of the prerequisites of joining the team. Apparently one didn't even need superpowers, since Hawkeye and the Black Widow were members.

Of course, Bucky cleaned up just as well. Bucky had gone through his period of self-loathing, and there were still plenty of days when he woke up with it gnawing at his mind, the feeling of hatred clawing at the back of his throat, making bile rise up from his stomach as his lead filled limbs pinned him to the bed. But those days were becoming far fewer. He was in a much better place than he had been in only a few years ago, thanks, in large part, to his therapist Janine. She had helped him work on regaining his confidence and instructed him to always find something he liked about himself. Tonight was a good night, when Bucky could admit with no hesitation that he looked about as fine as any of the Avengers.

His hair was pulled back into an artfully messy bun, glossy underneath the lights, thanks to the Wakandan oil Shuri swore by. She had designed him a suit that was as functional as it was fashionable, though there hadn't been time to fill him in on the particulars of the functionality just yet. Nevertheless, it made Bucky feel safer than a building full of superhumans, gods, and iron legends managed to and for that, Shuri was his favorite hero. The suit was gray, instead of the regular black, and fit Bucky like a glove. He caught more than one of Stark's guests checking out his ass, and since he was in the same room as Captain America, Bucky took it as the highest praise. He hadn't ever _seen_ Captain America in person, let alone his ass, but there was a reason the man was a legend, and Bucky was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his feats of heroism. Peggy Carter didn't seem like the type of lady to settle for anything but the best, and Bucky doubted that even Captain America was good enough for her, but he was probably as close as they came.

Despite all of the appreciative glances Bucky received, he didn't return any of them, nor did he accept any offers to dance. He wasn't here to socialize and have fun, he was here to _network_ . Bucky suspected that T'Challa had lured him here under the _pretense_ of networking, but damn if Bucky wasn't going to do his job. He was pretty sure the entire room contained the 1% of the wealth - certainly of California, if not the world - and Bucky wanted to milk that for all it was worth. He had spoken to a few people, and some of them genuinely seemed interested, but Bucky knew he needed to up the ante. For that, he needed Shuri.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the normally vibrant teenager was nowhere to be found.

Spotting T'Challa from the other side of the room, Bucky made his way to the king, shooting Okoye a friendly wave, accompanied by a smirk. However, before he could say a word, the woman T'Challa had been speaking to turned around, and Bucky's eyes widened with delighted surprise.

"Nakia!" he cried happily, and the woman returned his joyful smile. She quickly pulled him into a hug - as fierce and powerful as the woman giving it - before reaching up to tug playfully on his hair, pulled up for the evening's events.

"It's good to see you Bucky Barnes," she said with an honesty that felt powerful and humbling.

"It's wonderful to see you too. I'm surprised you made it! Last I heard, you were on the Ivory Coast." Nakia's eyes darkened slightly, and the smile slipped from Bucky's face. He didn't know all of the details of Nakia's job, only that she was involved in espionage. He knew that all too often, she was forced to face the unpleasant realities the rest of the world was privileged to ignore.

"She finished early, and decided to accompany me tonight," T'Challa interjected smoothly, and Bucky shot him a grateful grin. "We'll be departing for New York City tomorrow, to speak at the UN." Nakia nodded in agreement, and Bucky smiled. He felt T'Challa's speculative gaze on him, and Bucky frowned, opening his mouth to question his friend, but T'Challa shook his head instead, and Bucky quickly changed tracks.

"Have you seen Shuri? I need my design partner if I'm supposed to be shaking these billionaires down for donations." Bucky had a way with words that made him quite successful, when it was a day he could be around others, but Shuri had vision that was truly unparalleled. When the two of them teamed up, they were practically unstoppable.

Wide grins split both Nakia's and T'Challa's faces and Bucky frowned with confusion. Wordlessly, Nakia nodded to something behind him, and Bucky turned around. He saw the gathering of people that he had noticed earlier, larger now, and his frown deepened with confusion and curiosity. As he moved closer to the center, taking care not to brush up against anyone in the gathered crowd, Bucky’s eyes widened.

During high school, Bucky had become somewhat obsessed with swing dancing. He could admit that honestly, with very little embarrassment nowadays, mostly because he was damn good at it too. He told everyone and their mother it was all because of Rachel Goldstein, the girl he had liked throughout high school, who was the captain of the youth dance team at their local community center, but the truth went a little deeper than that - not that Bucky was ever willing to cop to that. If someone were to get a few drinks in him though, or ask his younger sister, the truth would steadily emerge.

Bucky had always been something of a history buff. His proclivity was with math and science, yes, but every year, he could always be found in as many history electives as his schedule would allow. His fascination had first began with Captain America, like many others, but Bucky had quickly become interested in the whole era, particularly one Peggy Carter. Bucky had watched countless hours of interviews with her on YouTube, forced his mother and sister to watch documentary after documentary with him, and even joined a few online forums - a dark part of past which he refused to revisit. The obsession did fade away, like most obsessions, but Bucky had remained fascinated with the era, particularly the dancing. His mother had enrolled him in a few dancing classes when he was younger, and he enjoyed dancing well enough. When he started swing dancing with Rachel at the community center, however, Bucky realized that he loved it.

Now, many years, a war, and a more jaded perspective later, Bucky wasn't quite as enamored with the so-called 'Greatest Generation' as he once had been. All that really remained from that phase in his life was a deep respect for Peggy Carter, a slight obsession with the Howling Commandos as a unit - not just background props for Captain America - and a love of swing dancing. It was a love that he had shared with Shuri, when Bucky slowly began opening up, and sharing more of himself. Shuri liked to tease him and pretend that she found it exhausting and silly, but Bucky knew better. Now, given the way she was dancing with none other than Captain America himself like a damn professional, Bucky knew it had all been a damn lie.

Thanks to the countless hours that Bucky had devoted to watching swing dancing on the internet, he thought himself something of an amateur expert at watching and picking apart dances, and the way the pair were currently dancing almost made Bucky's jaw drop. The two of them were captivating, moving and twirling like they were born to do so. But it was Captain America that Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of.

He was no Fred Astaire but he didn't need to be. He exuded confidence, complete and utter assurance that he knew exactly what he was doing, that it was almost impossible to look away. The way he flung and spun Shuri around was reinforced by the knowledge that he would catch her every time, that every move would be precise and fluid and beautiful. But it was even more than that. There was a sort of familiarity that Bucky had never seen in Rogers before, in any of the few interviews where the Captain had actually spoken. None of the stiffness or uptight military attitude was present in him now. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who had been born to do exactly this. Everyone's eyes were on him and Shuri, and for once, Steve Rogers seemed both aware of the fact, and comfortable with it.

The pair continued to dance for a few more minutes, before the song came to an end, and the watching crowd clapped enthusiastically. Rogers' cheeks were flushed ever so slightly, and Shuri was grinning broadly, from ear to ear. It was an expression of elation that Bucky recognized, but one usually reserved for solving a particularly tricky puzzle, or creating something innovative and completely original. For some reason, Bucky's stomach flipped with delight at the thought that Steve Rogers had managed to make Shuri smile like that. Before Bucky knew it, his feet were moving forward and suddenly he was in front of Shuri and Captain America, weaving his way through the people pushing their way to the front.

Maybe meeting an Avenger wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

 _Much has been written about Captain America, however, for all of the countless biographies that line the shelves of my office, I find that very little has been written about Steven Grant Rogers. The closest approximation was Norman Mailer's_ American Test: The Steve Rogers Story _, which touched on Rogers' life in Brooklyn, before enlisting in the army. However even Mailer's work examines how Rogers' poor health and impoverished lifestyle lead him to becoming the world's first super soldier. But I have never been interested in how Rogers became taller and stronger. It is a question that has confounded scientists for centuries, and it will likely confound them for centuries more. I am interested in how Rogers' life in the 'before', largely unknown and undiscovered, made him into the man he was, long before he ever stepped into Howard Stark's invention._

_It seems that Mr. Chernow shares my curiosity._

\- The New York Times, Review. _Rogers: Made in Brooklyn_

* * *

 

Almost as soon as the song ended, Steve wished another would follow. That was far more reminiscent of the dance halls he used to linger in during the years before the war, though Steve had never done much dancing himself. He had learned, of course, carefully taught by his mother, before her death. He had sworn up and down that he had two left feet, and no woman in her right mind would want to dance with him anyways, but Sarah wouldn't hear anything of it. Before the serum, Steve truly was terrible, even under his mother's tutelage. But once the Howling Commandos had caught wind of something brewing between Steve and Agent Carter, they refused to allow their CO to make a fool of all of them, in front of her. It had been quite the sight for anyone watching, each of the Commandos trying to teach Steve how to dance, and struggling to adjust to not being the lead. Steve had an easier time, practicing the steps the way the girls usually did, but it was harder for the Commandos, who were trying to teach Steve how to lead - as if Peggy wasn’t equally capable of the role. Falsworth, thanks to his upbringing in nobility, had plenty of formal education in ballroom dancing, while Gabe Jones was the best swing dancer Steve had ever met. The serum had thankfully given Steve a bit more grace and agility than he had ever possessed, and he managed to pick up the dancing well enough.

But it was now, in the future - or present - that Steve danced more than ever. It had been one of the ways of adjusting to the world he found himself in, finding something that didn't feel quite so foreign, but didn't remind him painfully of home either. He had joined a club, back in Brooklyn, and danced as much as his schedule allowed it. Steve hadn't been back in New York in several months now, so it had been a while since he had been able to dance like that, but the princess had kept up like a professional.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but where did you learn how to dance like that?"

Something that almost looked like a mischievous glint entered Shuri's eye, and a deep chuckle rang out from behind him. Steve whirled around - and came face to face with what had to be the most beautiful man he had ever met.

Steve’s mouth went dry, and he had to force himself not to stare, but it was difficult. The man was almost as tall as he was - perhaps only a centimeter or two shorter than Steve, but he certainly wasn’t smaller than Steve. Christ, the way he filled out that suit...Steve’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the broad shoulders, the way the material clung to his muscles. The man had stunning grey-blue eyes set in a chiseled face, with dark brown hair pulled away into a bun at the nape of his neck.

If Steve wasn’t mistaken, those same eyes happened to be giving Steve the same once-over, much to his delight.

“Captain, this is James Barnes,” Shuri said from next to him, and Steve managed to tear his gaze away from the man - James - to glance at her. She was wearing a knowing smirk, and a small blush began creeping up the sides of his neck. “He’s the man who likes to think he taught me how to dance.”

James scoffed, but held out his hand for Steve to shake. As he did so, he had to repress a shiver. James’ grip was strong and his gaze was steady.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” Steve said smoothly, relieved that his voice didn’t betray any of the nerves that were suddenly fluttering in his stomach.

“Bucky, please,” The man said, and Steve nodded. “And the pleasure is all mine, Captain Rogers.”

“If I’m going to call you Bucky, it’s just Steve.” Bucky’s face split into a grin, and Steve was shocked to realize there was still air in his lungs, because it felt as if he had taken a blow to the chest, knocking the wind right out of him. Steve wasn’t the smoothest man in the world, but it wasn’t often that someone had this sort of affect on him. What was it he had told Sam?

_“If I fall for someone like I did for Peggy, it won’t be because I was looking for them.”_

“Steve then. That was quite the performance you two put on,” Bucky said, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought I remembered reading that you didn’t do much dancing, back in your day. New hobby?”

Steve smirked at him in response. "Do you always read a guy's biography before you flirt with him?" he asked, and Bucky let out a surprised shout of laughter. Shuri looked delighted, a smirk of her own curling around her lips. Steve knew for a fact he hadn't said anything about dancing to any of the press in this century. The transcript of his conversation with Peggy on the Valkyrie were public, Steve had looked them up. He knew the subject of his dancing abilities were the subject of public interest, for one reason or another. A quick internet search had even dredged up a few _dissertations_ on the very topic. It had baffled Steve, but try as reporters might, he never said anything more about it. That dance had been a private joke between Steve and Peggy. He loved this century, but the lack of privacy was something that Steve was still adjusting to.

Even though Steve himself hadn't made any mention of his dancing skills to the reporters that tried to ask, more than one biography on Steve's life did cite the fact that he hadn't done much of it, before the serum. For some reason, knowing that Bucky had read about him - hell, that he had even read the small blurb about him from the Smithsonian - it made Steve's stomach flip inexplicably.

Caught out, Bucky flushed slightly, and Steve couldn't help but notice how the ever so slight pink tinge, visible beneath his beard, only made him more attractive. Whenever Steve did a full body blush, he looked like an overripe tomato, but Bucky just seemed to glow. Fuck, but Steve was gone on him already. He needed to regain his composure, if he hoped to get through a conversation.

"You got me," Bucky chuckled. " _Made In Brooklyn_ was one of my favorite books." Steve frowned, casting his mind back, and trying to remember which biography Bucky was talking about. He had been made aware of a fair number of biographies, and Steve knew there were several that were a far cry from accurate, and were really nothing more than propaganda. "The Chernow one," Bucky clarified, and Steve's expression cleared up somewhat, and he nodded in satisfaction.

"Oh yeah, that one wasn't so bad."

Bucky's eyebrows rose. "So it was true?"

It was Steve's turn to chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't say all of it was. But it was more accurate than most. And yeah, I didn't dance much, before - this." Steve gestured down at his body, and he watched as Bucky's appreciative gaze traveled down as well. "I didn't really have the constitution for it, and I didn't know how." Bucky's lips curved up into a smile. "The Commandos taught me, during the war."

Bucky nodded, his face suddenly serious, with an understanding that Steve was surprised to see. "I get that. People always seem to be surprised by how much waiting is involved in war."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Are you a vet?"

Another nod. "I am." Bucky held up his left hand, and for the first time, Steve noticed it was made out of metal. His eyes widened. "I lost my arm during my second tour. I...I had a rough time of it, when I got back. But T'Challa and Shuri helped me out." Steve certainly wanted to hear _that_ story, but he could tell now was not the time to ask. "We started a company, making prosthetics for veterans. There are never enough resources in place to help." A small smile made its way on Bucky's lips, as if he had forgotten he was even talking to Steve in the first place.

Suddenly, he shook his head and laughed. "Jesus, it sounds like I'm pitching you," he chuckled.

"No," Steve shook his head, his tone serious. He wanted to reach out, to grab Bucky's shoulder like he might have done with Sam, or one of the Commandos, but he wouldn't touch him, uninvited. Bucky was a veteran, Steve knew better, from personal experience. "I'm glad you told me. What's the company called?"

Bucky grimaced slightly. "White Wolf."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I'm sensing a story there..."

"Well, Wakanda is known for their tech, especially coming from Black Panther Labs. Shuri," Bucky gestured across the room to where Shuri was conversing with a skinny teenage boy who seemed torn between hanging off of her every word and Tony's, "Is actually the Minister of Research and Development." Steve's eyes widened, and a proud sort of grin slid into place. He barely knew her, but after only a few minutes spent with her, he already wished her the very best in life. “Since our company is linked, but I’m the face of it, Shuri thought it would be an amusing homage to the parent facility.”

Steve chuckled. “White Wolf. I like it.”

Bucky snorted. “Really I think she just took one look at my dog and then tried to come up with a name that would fit.”

Steve perked up at the mention of Bucky’s pet. “You have a dog?” He asked with interest, and the slightest hint of envy. Ever since waking up from the ice, and realizing that dogs weren’t just for people who lived on a farm, or large open pieces of land, Steve had wanted to get a dog of his very own. It had even been suggested to him by a few S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, who explained to him that dogs and other animals could be trained as therapy companions, and emotional support animals.

But the reality of his situation was that Steve didn’t have any sort of schedule conducive to a pet. He had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, with no guarantee of when or even if he would return. Hell, he hadn’t been back to his Brooklyn apartment in months. It wouldn’t be fair to any animal, to have Steve as an owner, but it didn’t stop him from wanting one.

A grin stretched over Bucky’s mouth, and Steve tried not to let his thoughts about that mouth veer into dangerous territory. He wasn’t that successful.

“Yeah, Lul.”

“Lul?” Steve asked curiously.

“It’s Romanian for ‘wolf’,” Bucky explained, and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but at exactly that moment, the song ended and Pepper walked into the middle of the dance floor holding a microphone.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? Thank you so much to all of you for being present tonight. I won’t belabor you with a lengthy speech. As you know, this is a fundraiser for the rebuilding efforts in Seattle. It is our social responsibility as leaders in the business and technological world, to be the vanguard of progress, change and development. Please keep that in mind tonight, as we begin our auction.”

A polite applause broke out over the room, and Steve shot Bucky an apologetic glance.

“I believe that’s my cue,” he said, not bothering to hide his sigh. It was brought about by both his lack of excitement about his involvement in the auction, and the fact that this meant he had to leave Bucky.

The other man seemed to realize it too.

“That’s a pity. I came here not expecting to enjoy any conversations I had tonight.” Bucky purposely pitched his voice so that T’Challa, who was walking by, heard it and turned to glare, while Steve laughed. Another smile lifted the corner of Bucky’s lips, and for a moment, Steve allowed himself to believe that he had been the cause of it. “It was great getting to meet you Steve. I hope I get to talk to you again someday.”

As Steve turned to leave, he had a sudden surge of confidence, and he half turned and winked at Bucky as he began to make his way to Pepper.

“Well, I’m for sale you know. Put your money where your mouth is.”

* * *

  

_"...and we're back from our commercial break! We've got Captain Carol Danvers from NASA, here with us today talking about the upcoming satellite launch. Thanks for joining us Captain Danvers!"_

_"Carol, please. Thanks for having me Tom."_

_"Of course! Now before we start talking about the launch, and the atmosphere, let's talk about the Twittersphere. You set the whole world abuzz when you bid on Captain America at Tony Stark's Save Seattle - I mean the Avengers Awareness Auction!"_

_[Carol laughs]_

_"I've got to ask - what made you do it?"_

_"Oh, I had plenty of reasons Tom! I mean, the man is a living legend after all! Since getting a Twitter and Instagram he's shown a real interest in space. I wanted to pick his brain, and it was all for a good cause."_

_"Uh huh. I gotta say, none of those sound like your real reasons Captain."_

_[Carol laughs again]_

_"You caught me. Mostly I wanted to see if I could beat him in an arm wrestling match, and if I could get Sam Wilson's number."_

_"And did you beat Cap? Or get the Falcon's number?"_

_"Well, his number was the prize for the arm wrestling competition."_

* * *

 

"Thinking about Steve again?"

Bucky glanced up from the treadmill and nearly tripped over his feet, much to Shuri's delight. He quickly regained his footing and without breaking a stride, he threw her the finger. Instantly he regretted the action, because it only made her cackle harder.

"Aww, missing the white boy already?" Bucky rolled his eyes. He knew he never should have said anything. Not that he had said anything in the first place. But the fact that he had bid a million dollars on the day with Captain America had been telling enough.

Not that Bucky had actually won. He had been outbid by some beautiful blonde Air Force captain who would probably make beautiful blonde babies with Steve.

Frowning in frustration, Bucky increased the difficulty on the treadmill.

"Why don't you just call him?" Shuri suggested slyly, and even from the treadmill, Bucky managed to fix her with an unimpressed glare.

"I don't have his cell phone number. I don't even know if he has a cell phone. He was born in the 20's, remember?"

Shuri crossed her arms over her chest, leveling Bucky with an unimpressed look of her own.

"You are best friends with the King of Wakanda and the smartest person in the world. Plus you could get into contact with Tony Stark if you were really desperate."

Bucky hoped he never grew that desperate for anything in his life, but he was concerned that he might actually be sinking that low.

"Besides," Shuri added, waving her hand dismissively, "He definitely has a cell phone. Don't you remember? His first Instagram post made national headlines."

Of course, that only started SHuri off on a rant about American culture and obsession with celebrity - as if she hadn't flown from Wakanda to see Beyonce perform at Coachella - which Bucky promptly tuned out, focusing only on the pounding of his feet against the treadmill.

He did remember that Instagram post, now that Shuri had mentioned it. He liked it, in fact, and had followed Steve immediately. Bucky generally agreed with Shuri about celebrities. And as she had pointed out, he was close friends with literal royalty, and thanks to their aid, he now found himself rubbing elbows with the leading names in development and technology on a regular basis. And truth be told, Bucky didn't find the Avengers that impressive. While he was grateful for their world-saving antics, it also seemed to him like they seemed to put the world in danger just as often as they saved it. Really, couldn't they perform a heroic feat without destroying an entire city?

But Captain America was different. Bucky had posters of him in his room. Guys talked about him in the army, he was a legend. A different kind of legend though. Most of the world loved him because he was the opposite of Tony Stark in every way; no one was going to find a sex tape of the clean-cut All American superhero anytime soon. But that had never been the reason why Bucky looked up to him.

No, growing up as a poor kid in Brooklyn with too many mouths to feed, and not enough food to go around, Bucky had found a kindred spirit in the stories he used to hear about Steve Rogers - not Captain America. Betty and Mildred Hartfeld, two old women who had been born during the first war, had actually lived in the same neighborhood as Steve Rogers, and they had regaled Bucky and the other neighborhood boys for countless nights, with tales of who Rogers was, long before he ever stepped into any fancy Stark machine.

Who Steve Rogers was happened to be a little shit.

Bucky had learned that from Betty and Mildred, but meeting Steve the previous night had only confirmed it, much to his delight. But now Bucky couldn't stop thinking about Steve, and he couldn't actually do anything about it. He had been severely tempted to raise his bid when he realized the blonde Colonel - Danvers, he thought he recalled hearing at some point or another - was going to win Steve, but common sense (and a rather painful nudge courtesy of Shuri) had snapped him out of it. White Wolf was a fledgling company, and Bucky was a fledgling millionaire. He had vowed never to become someone who simply threw money at whatever outrageously expensive thing he wanted.

Though to be perfectly fair, Steve Rogers hadn't been on the table, when Bucky made that promise to himself.

Steve had given Bucky a glance as he walked across the floor to greet the woman who had won the day to spend in his company. It was probably just Bucky's imagination, but he could have sworn that the look in Steve's eyes was almost disappointed, as he shot Bucky an apologetic grin.

Really though, Bucky had moved past it.

"What's the point of being someone important if you aren't going to use your connections?" Shuri asked, and Bucky hated to admit it, but she had a point. It was only really his pride that was standing in the way of him actually asking for Steve's number. But Bucky's pride was a hell of a thing to overcome.

"This doesn't leave us," Bucky said, pointing his finger at Shuri, as if he had ever succeeded in delivering any semblance of a threat, "But you may be right. Still, that doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it."

Shuri sighed loudly. Bucky was notorious for not actually chasing the things he wanted. It seemed that his vow to himself had warped, and he had come to believe that he didn't _deserve_ to have anything that he wanted. Both Shuri and T'Challa had tried talking him out of that way of thinking, but it was a long process.

"Fine. What about business, not pleasure?" Bucky frowned, fiddling with the buttons on his treadmill so that it began to slow, and he came to a stop, stepping off, and grabbing a towel to throw around his neck. "I mean, sure, he's the hot guy you want in your bed, but he's also an Avenger, and a veteran. He could be a pretty good face for your campaign, wouldn't you say?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. Shuri had a good point. Although the company was doing well, White Wolf was still pretty young, and Bucky was doing his best to get the name out there. A celebrity endorsement like Captain America could go a long way. "He would be good for a campaign," Bucky agreed. "And he'd probably do it too." Last night might have proved that Steve Rogers was indeed a little shit, but it had also given Bucky the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the fire in his eyes up close. In some of the early war propaganda pieces that Bucky remembered seeing in history books, Captain America's eyes were always drawn as practically blazing with patriotism and righteousness. Bucky had always snorted at the very idea, but last night it had been nothing short of breathtaking. Bucky certainly wouldn't describe Steve's eyes as 'blazing with patriotism', but there was fire and passion. Even if Bucky hadn't watched what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. like the rest of the world, after last night he had no trouble believing that Steve Rogers would tear down whoever stood in the way of what was right. And Bucky seriously doubted that anyone, let alone Steve Rogers, would say that helping veterans get prosthetics wasn't right.

"Maybe I will contact him then. Through the proper channels, of course."

Shuri rolled her eyes. "You're as bad as T'Challa and Nakia."

Bucky's jaw dropped, and he faked a gasp. Grabbing the towel from around his neck, he whipped it at Shuri. "You take that back!" He demanded.

Shuri just giggled. "Actually, that's not fair. To Nakia." Before Bucky could do anything, she danced away, giggling all the while. He shook his head, and headed over to his gym bag, reaching for his phone. As he did so, Bucky noticed he had a notification from Instagram.

 _captainsteverogers_ is now following you

 

* * *

****  
**@buckybarnes commented:** I'm flattered Cap, really. No one's liked this many of my pictures since I went through my gym selfie phase  
**@captainsteverogers **✓**** commented: Damn, I missed that phase?

 **Danielle  
** **@iamdaniiam**

is it just me, or is captain america flirting with princess shuri's super hot friend?

 **Michelle  
** **@rogerthatcap**

it's definitely not just you

 **Danielle  
** **@iamdaniiam**

i'm going through his insta and damn. i can't blame cap for liking every pic. #capisabicon

 **Peter Dalquist  
** **@redwhiteandtrue**

Oh please. Captain America is dating that Carol woman. She bought him at the auction. #capisstraight

 **Captain Steve Rogers ✓  
** **@steverogersreal**

 

That's Captain Danvers to you. And she's a lovely lady. I 100% approve of her and Sam.

[The Twitterverse is Screaming Over This Interaction Between Captain America and Professional Hottie...](link)  
https://buzzfeed.com/vernehampton/caps-insta-action-sparks-questions ▾

* * *

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
Wait, you haven’t seen Donnie Darko?

 

  

 **Steve**  
It’s not on my list. Should it be?

  

 

 **Bucky**  
Yes!!  
What have you seen so far?

 

 **Steve**  
I think I’m completely caught up on Disney

 

 **Bucky**  
Completely? Damn, I haven’t even seen all of them

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
It was one of the first things I did.  
I can’t really explain how incredible seeing Snow White was that first time. There was nothing else like it, so I was pretty happy to find out Disney had made some more films.

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
Yeah, I guess that’s not an experience I can really relate to. The world is pretty saturated with media now.

 **Steve  
** Not that I’m complaining.

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
You really aren’t, are you?  
Honestly, you took to the whole ‘frozen for seventy years’ thing way better than I or the internet thought possible.

 

“Would you quit flirting? The lovestruck look is making me sick.”

Without glancing up from his phone, Steve flipped Sam off, and he heard an audible gasp come from the doorway. Sighing, Steve quickly pocketed the phone and turned, an innocent expression on his face.

“Okay that definitely counts as bad language!” Tony cried out loudly from his position in the doorway, and Steve sighed, but thanked his lucky stars that Tony seemed to be fixated on the rude gesture, and not anything else that had happened. The same could not be said for Natasha, who was staring at him shrewdly.

“Not now Tony. We’ve got work to do.” Sam snorted behind Steve, but at exactly that minute, Maria Hill strode into the conference room, and the conversation died down, though Steve didn’t miss the glare Sam leveled at him. He responded with a wide, innocent smile.

“Alright, listen up.” The smile slid off of Steve’s face, and was quickly replaced by a stoic look as he watched Maria move to the head of the table, pulling up a 3D hologram as she did so. “It seems that Ulysses Klaue left us a parting gift.” Steve frowned, but waited for Maria to continue. “He created some sort of sonic device that emits powerful, concussive blasts.”

“Isn’t Klaue dead?” Clint pointed out.

“He is, however the device fell into the hands of Dmitri Smerdyakov, a method actor who calls himself chameleon.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Honestly, the names were growing increasingly ridiculous as time went on. Still paying attention to Maria, Steve didn’t even think before shooting off the text saying as much to Bucky. Moments later, his phone lit up underneath the table, and Steve had to bite back a chuckle.

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
You wear an American flag and go by a rank that you basically co-opted.  
I don’t think you’re in any position to judge buddy.

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
Touche

  

 

 **Bucky**  
But hey, if you’re dealing with this sound guy, think he could fix your hearing?

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
The serum made me the peak of physical ability. I have perfect hearing.

 

 **Bucky**  
And yet you still think you hear “Yanny”

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
Shut up it’s fucking yanny

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
As proud as I am to hear that you’ve caught up on the behemoth of a cultural icon that is Project Runway, you’re kind of ruining those Cap PSAs of my childhood.

  

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
Screw you, I filmed those like two months after coming out of the ice.

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
It’s honestly impressive how pained you look while smiling.

 

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
Just pray those filmmakers never become supervillains. If they do we’re screwed. No one has ever stripped me of my will to live like that.

 

 

 

 

 **Bucky**  
Who says they weren’t already supervillains, and you were complicit in their plan to subjugate the general population by appealing to hero worship?

 

 

 

 

 **Steve**  
Are you saying you worship me?

 

There was a loud pointed cough, and Steve looked up to find the Avengers staring at him with varied expressions. Sam simply looked exasperated, and Natasha looked like a spider that had trapped a particularly juicy fly. Bruce and Clint seemed unbothered, but Tony was staring at him with a mixture of delight and offense - an expression he shot at Steve at least ten times a day.

“Are you texting during a briefing? Really? Captain American Way is texting during a super important top secret briefing?”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that multi-tasking and being on one’s phone _is_ the American Way. Besides, I’m paying attention! Villain with the stupid name, Klaue’s device, sonic blasts, left a message that he’d start wreaking havoc in Buffalo, we’re touching down in ten minutes.”

Tony huffed, but Maria just sighed loudly. “Fine. Everyone get to the Quinjet, we need to move fast.”

Steve and the rest of the Avengers stood up, but before they could move, Tony held up his hand, staring at Steve shrewdly. “I’ll make you a deal,” He stated, his voice loud and dramatic. Steve had to refrain from rolling his eyes, so he simply crossed his arms over his chest. “You get the stealth suit back if you tell me who you’re texting.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. That was pretty tempting. He loved the stealth suit, and everyone knew it. The idea of not running around draped in an American flag, as Bucky had put it, was a tempting one. He just didn’t know if he was willing to sacrifice Bucky for it.

Then again, he was trying to get laid, and the stealth suit made his ass look particularly fantastic.

Really, there was only solution.

“Fine. I’m texting a one-night stand I met on Grindr.”

Steve strode out of the room, crossing the threshold of the doorway just in time to hear Tony make a sound that resembled a cross between a beached whale and a drowning man. Smirking to himself, he pulled out his phone, to see the latest text from Bucky.

 

 

 **Bucky**  
Steve Rogers, you’re a little shit.

* * *

 

**redwhiteandtrue**

 

> Where is Cap's real outfit? People recognize him by the red white and blue! I shouldn't be surprised though, the design choices have been so subpar recently  
>    
>  #anti avengers #anti stealth suit

**officialsteverogers**  reblogged this from **redwhiteandtrue**  

 

> you're just upset that you can't a.) oggle black widow and scarlet witch anymore and b.) slut shame them. the stealth suit is great especially for missions requiring, you know, some stealth?  
>    
>  #redwhiteandtrue #captain america

* * *

 

“His ass looks amazing in that suit.”

Bucky didn’t say a word, his eyes glued to the television. He didn’t need Shuri to point out Steve’s ass for him. There had been a running commentary going through his thoughts ever since the moment he watched the Quinjet touch down in Buffalo on the news, and watched Steve practically strut out, flanked by the Widow and the Falcon, decked in sleek navy, rather than bold patriotism. Honestly though, they were trying to save a city, not walk the runway during New York Fashion Week. Bucky took offense.

Shuri rounded the couch, and plopped down next to him, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. T’Challa had already returned to Wakanda, but Shuri had stayed behind to oversee a new program launch at the Wakanda International Outreach Center in Oakland. And of course, Coachella, which she and Bucky had plans to attend.

The two of them had planned to binge watch Friends on Netflix together, but Bucky had turned on the TV to live reports of the latest villain using some sort of sound tech to throw a temper tantrum in upstate New York. The newscaster had announced that the Avengers were on their way, and that had been enough for Bucky and Shuri. That had been an hour ago, and the fight seemed to be waning down, for the most part.

“Nice of him to give New York City a break,” Shuri pointed out around a mouthful of popcorn. “I don’t think Buffalo has seen much love from the supervillains yet.”

Bucky snorted.

“Yeah, he even gave them a head’s up. He seems like a classy guy.”

He glanced back down at his phone. He and Steve had been texting right up until the moment Steve had stepped off the Quinjet. The cameras seemed most interested in following around Iron Man, but in the few shots of Steve, he seemed to be holding his own. Bucky wasn’t too worried.

Still, one of the sound waves, or whatever it was the guy emitted, had hit Hawkeye, and knocked him back against a building, leaving him down for the count. It was easy to forget that the Avengers were humans, even the enhanced ones.

“Look!” Shuri called, pointing at the television, and Bucky’s head snapped up. “Cap has him!”

Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t quite realized he was holding and let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, it’s over,” he agreed. He glanced at Shuri, biting his lip. “Do you want me to turn on Friends?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You are so transparent. Of course we’re not going to turn on Friends, they always do interviews.”

Sure enough, Steve and the Falcon were striding towards the cameras, villain in tow. Wilson had the man in some sort of magnetic cuffs, and was escorting him by the arm, while Steve looked to be pulling out -

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest. Steve was pulling out his cell phone. Not two seconds after a major fight with a villain, and he was checking his cell phone. Bucky knew better than to get his hopes up too much, but a quick glance down at his own phone showed him the three gray dots that indicated Steve was typing something.

  

 **Steve**  
Sorry about that. I had something to do. What are you up to?

 

The cameras zoomed in a little closer, and Bucky was able to make out Steve with better clarity. The red headphones that all of the Avengers had been wearing were striking against the navy blue of the suit. Steve was clearly engrossed in his phone, not even bothering to look at the cameras, or the people nearby. Wilson was wearing a look of exasperation, while Stark was squawking indignantly, something about Apple and Starkphones.

 

  

 **Bucky**  
Oh not much, just watching Netflix, you know.  
Is that a Captain America phone case?

 

He looked back up at the television, and thought he saw the faint traces of a grin around the corner of Steve’s mouth. 

 

 **Steve  
** Yeah, they didn’t have any Falcon merchandise, and I had to purchase something to complain about it.

Bucky let out a loud laugh. He showed the text to Shuri, who just rolled her eyes. He was in the middle of composing a reply - a scathing indictment of the merchandising company that had dared to spurn Sam Wilson - when the clamor of the press on the television grew louder.

“Captain!”

“Captain America!”

“Captain Rogers what can you -”

“Captain is that -”

“What can you say about the Avengers -”

Steve’s face smoothed into a neutral expression, and Bucky suddenly longed to know what emotions were lying underneath the mask. Was he irritated? Tired? Angry? Overwhelmed? He was surrounded by cameras and microphones being shoved in his face, surely that wasn’t pleasant. Bucky never liked it, on the few occasions he had been the center of that much public scrutiny.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Steve began, his tone authoritative, the familiar sound of Captain America taking command. “But I’m going to let Stark handle the public statement today.”

Bucky and Shuri exchanged a glance and raised their eyebrows. The last time that happened, Stark had managed to offend no less than five countries, create a national scandal, and accidentally propose to Prince William. The tag #duchessStark had been trending for weeks.

(On the bright side, the world had come to the delightful conclusion that Pepper Potts and Kate Middleton should just leave their spouses for each other and rule the world themselves.)

Shuri and Bucky weren’t the only ones surprised by Steve’s statement. The press only grew louder, and Stark looked gobsmacked, and a bit torn, as if he couldn’t decide whether Christmas had come early, or if he had just been told that he was in charge of hand delivering toys to every child on the planet.

“Captain Rogers, why is Iron Man giving the statement today?”

A determined young woman, with her hair in braids like Shuri’s, had pushed her way to the front amidst all the other reporters jostling each other to grow closer. Bucky watched as Steve turned his full attention to her, and gave a slight smile, before gesturing to his phone.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but i’ve kind of got a great fella I need to ask on a date.”

If the noise of the press had been loud before, now it was a raucous din. Steve didn’t seem to be paying attention to any of it, just turning around and walking back towards the Quinjet, giving the press, and the rest of the world, another glorious view of his ass as he walked away.

A million miles away in Oakland, Bucky was frozen on the couch, incapable of moving or speaking. He could feel the couch shaking with the force of Shuri’s laughter, and he knew there was going to be a video of this that made its way back to T’Challa, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. After a minute, she managed to compose herself, which was more than Bucky could say.

“Do you think he wants to come to Coachella with us?"

 

* * *

 

 **Captain Steve Rogers ✓  
** **@steverogersreal**

What do you say Barnes? Netflix and chill?

 

 **Bucky Barnes  
** **@jamesbbarnes**

I dunno Cap. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who hears yanny.

 

 **Captain Steve Rogers ✓  
** **@steverogersreal**

Wow. This could be us but you playing pic.twitter.com/QNs0d8uVYQ

 

 **Bucky Barnes  
** **@jamesbbarnes**

If I say yes, can we binge watch your Cap public service announcements?

 

 **Shuri ✓  
** **@princessshuri**

I ship it

 

 **Tony Stark ✓  
** **@iamironman**

I cannot believe you’ve had a Twitter account for a week and you’ve already broken it.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Kudos are appreciated, however I’m not looking for con crit <3 You can find the rebloggable version of tyranttirade's art [here](https://tyranttirade.tumblr.com/post/174839441229/heres-my-art-for-daidalos-fic-so-you-think-you), and you can catch me on tumblr [here](http://rogersbrooklyn.tumblr.com)!


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